


Shattering slowly

by Ist_Narsha_Shehlisa



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Abandonment, Angst, Angst and Feels, Gen, dying in sleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-03 00:39:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10956084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ist_Narsha_Shehlisa/pseuds/Ist_Narsha_Shehlisa
Summary: Janet used to tell Tim that dying of a broken heart is only a feeling, but Tim could swear he could hear the cracking inside more and more. He thinks Robin could fix him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I shouldn't have listened to Poets of the fall or NightsAmoreMusic while writing this but well, I did. Why do I do this to myself?

“Mommy?” a tiny little boy tugs at the corner of his mother's dress. She is planning for another journey for herself and her husband again, the maps of various locations laid out all over her desk. She turns stiffly in her chair, her shoulders aching from the strain of sitting in a poor position. But she smiles.

“Yes dear?” 

“Can people die of a broken heart?”

She stopped at those words, thoughts no longer on the project being planned. Her eyes looking into big, wide blue orbs glittering with curiosity and innocence, her poor little boy, her poor little Tim, old and young beyond his body. What would she do without him. What would he do without her?

She spun the chair around, fully facing her son and snatched him up in her arms, nuzzling into his full head of raven silk, her beautiful little boy. How long before the world steals his precious innocence away. How much time did they have left before Gotham claimed her dues, taking from them not their wealth but their happiness?

“I don't think so, Tim, it's very hard for that to happen,” She can't tell him about Mother, “But maybe it could hurt so much it feels like dying.”

“Can doctors fix it?”

“The doctors don't understand.”

The tiny child snuggles his head against his mother's chest, breathing softly as he listened to her fragile heart beat, thumping away like the flutter of bird's wings against his ears. She curls over her son, arms circling around him like featherless wings. They said he is his father's son, he had his determination and anything that became the object of his interest became an obsession. But he is also his mother's child, her eyes and heart, the paleness of delicate hollowed ivory in their bodies and skin. Her child was a beautiful, fragile bird, trying to become a dragon and her saddened soul knew, he would try his whole life. It would become his obsession. And it would break him, just as it broke her mother.

“I hope I don't get a broken heart, it sounds painful.”

Oh my son, it is, and it isn't even my heart. Janet sniffed his little head once more and urged him to play in the garden, among the flowers, trees and birds. She watched as he ran and twirled, alone but happy among the foliage. And she hoped.

Hoped he wouldn't lose himself to the world because the world will break him when it can get the chance, hopes that whoever is out there for him, will protect his little glass soul. Because dying from a broken heart is the slowest and most terrible way to die. 

 

He was breaking. He knew it but there was no way he would show this weakness to the brat. And it wasn't even his fault, not entirely. He'd trusted Dick, always had since he started wearing his colors to fight crime. And he love it because it made him feel strong, they made him feel strong, like nothing could break him. Who knew it would be those same people whom he'd trusted, the ones closest to him that would crack him apart.  
Tim didn't know what would break him. Not until he lost all those closest to him, Mom the casualty of a rotten world, Dad a casualty of his unfortunate affliction, Bart and Kon the casualties of a war, the girl he could have fallen in love with, just a casualty of Gotham. That was his life, one unfortunate event after another. It was then that he realized that his biggest fear, was being alone.  
Now, he was alone. The man who'd saved and dragged him into the darkest depths of the world's evil had gone, leaving him there with nothing but a whisper of his legacy.  
Dick made a poor imitation and it wasn't his fault. Now, the last scraps of Robin that held him together was stripped away, given to that child.  
The kicker? It wasn't Damian that solitude would kill, it was Tim. And Dick didn't even realize.

The moment he left the manor, he felt it, like a poisonous flower blooming across his heart. And when he donned a new suit, a new name, a broken identity that could burst at the seams, it began to spread. And it wasn't until when he was alone, nestled between monsters in silence that he knew, his time was limited.

“Evening, replacement.”

The gruff voice, strong and rebellious, uncaring of the harsh cold. Not breaking. Tim was almost jealous.

“What is it Jason?” he was almost proud of how well he pulled off that cold calmness in his voice. Jason was the last person he wanted to know.

“Change of costume?” one eyebrow cocked up in curiosity at the boy's sudden change of colors. Noticing the lack of pluckiness he presented when they first met. But the boy ignored his questioning look and continued to look busy.

“I can't deal with you right now, I need to find Bruce.”

“Why don't you get Dick to help, or maybe B's kid?”

“Haven't you heard, they're the new dynamic duo,” Tim said, internally flinching at his own biting words.

“Oh snap, guess that means, you're nothing now huh?”

Tim remained silent.

“Think that if you can find Bruce that he'll take you back, make you Robin again?” Jason leaned forward, whispering into the boy's ear, “Think again, Robin only happens once, I should know. You'll never be Robin again.”  
Tim was a pretender, and now he was pretending not to feel the cracks spread further across his core, slowly suffocating him 

Despite harsh words, the former second Robin accompanied him on his journey, simply out of boredom he said. He didn't complain. The more time they spent together, the less his chest hurt, somehow, despite his venom, Jason must be healing him. He hoped.  
And his voice bit at Tim less, eventually settling into a mask of disinterest with occasional concern.

“Doesn't anything bother you?”

“What?”

“You got fired from Robin, how are you not out for blood?”  
“Not everybody is like you, Jason.”

Jason didn't retort, instead he stared at Tim intently, making him shift uncomfortably underneath the gaze of those teal eyes, he felt as if he was being studied, a man examining a bird underneath a lens. He wanted to escape before he noticed Tim's broken wings. Breaking heart.  
He stood up, dusting off his suit and walked. Jason didn't follow.

 

They never spoke of it again, and by the time they were close to finding Bruce, they'd already settled into a comfortable but quiet partnership, they exchanged few words but Tim could sense that Jason had never stopped studying him. His demeanor quickly changing as Tim was beginning to wear down from his fights. Being stripped layer by layer by one painful truth after another, like the world was out to rub salt on his cuts and scars.

The next time, it was when he got careless. When he realized that no one, no one but a boy who had died once, believed him. That they'd rather believe that he'd gone mad with grief than give his theory the benefit of a doubt. So he lashed out with as little caution as possible.  
Jason grasped him by the shoulders and shook so hard the world trembled like a quake in his eyes.

“The hell, replacement! You could've been dead.” 

I'm dying Jason, Tim's mind whispered. But he closed his eyes and let those words die in his throat.

“Didn't think it mattered to you,” he tried to sound plucky, and failing. Cracks tend to impede ones ability to be funny. Jason had no reason to be so worried. The concern that colored his voice was ill-fitting, or maybe misdirected, it just didn't seem right, for those words to be for Tim. Not for him. Never meant for him. Damian's biting words, Dick's still grieving sighs came surging back fresh within his mind, now of all times, “I'll be fine.”

“I've been with you long enough, Tim, to know something is wrong,” 

Jason said his name, maybe he was losing his mind. When Tim looked up he saw that spark of knowing in those eyes, Jason was coming far too close to discovering the truth. He couldn't let him, not when they were so close. Why were they doing this again? He closed his eyes again and brushed the other man off. Need to find Bruce, need to know. This could bring Tim back again, or end him.

 

“Bruce...”

“You found me.” His voice, just the way Tim remembered it. He could almost have cried there and then with relief. But he wasn't one for such displays. He blinked the tears back.

“We did, Jason and I.” 

Bruce's eyes flickered over to the man, standing off to the side with arms crossed. His expression hidden beneath the helmet. So he looked back at Tim. His own expression unreadable beneath the stoic mask he wore so well, but somewhere underneath, something passed over Bruce's eyes. Tim hoped it was pride. But he said nothing about it.

“You were always nothing, Drake, nothing but a nosy, untalented imbecile worming your way into this family, taking advantage of Father's kindness when Todd was in his grave, but he has me now, his true son, and you? You are but a cuckoo's child, and you'll be cast out.”

Not true, Bruce will understand, Bruce, Dad, Partner, still needs him...

“You'll see very soon, that you're just in the way, you are not Robin any more. You can go back to nothing, the way you were.”

...doesn't he? 

Bruce turned away with nothing else to talk about,“Let's go home.”

 

He didn't know how wrong he was, didn't know until he saw Bruce greet Dick and Damian, Batman and Robin. He'd proven them wrong, he'd found Bruce.  
He almost expected, thought Bruce would take the mantle again and prove Jason wrong too, that he could be Robin again. He wanted it so bad he was almost ashamed of it. But it would mean they could be partners again, and he wouldn't be alone any more. And Jason didn't hate him like he used to, things could be better than before.  
But one look into Bruce's eyes and he knew, he realized, Jason was right, Damian was right. It was so ironic that they read each other so well, like Batman and Robin should, without a single word uttered, a story was told.  
The man was changed, nearly unrecognisable. Bruce didn't look at him the way he used to when he still wore the colors of a plucky little bird and that was when he understood what that fleeting spark across his deep blue eyes meant. It was sadness, not pride, he'd changed, no, not him, it was Tim.  
Tim would never fly again, wings that were so broken couldn't fly again. His heart had never healed, it had only slowed. A Robin that was this broken can't be Robin any more. The title was Damian's now.  
The brat grinned deviously at him from behind the two Batmen.

“Told you so.” he said. Told you so, he'd said.

The breaking was so loud, he was afraid they could hear it. Don't walk away, his heart said, Tim left.

 

He was tired, so very tired. Even has he strolled up to the manor, his whole body felt like stone dragging along the ground. But seeing Alfred again made it a little better. The butler answered the door with a pleasantly surprised look.

“Master Timothy, it's been weeks since we last heard from you, I was almost convinced you'd up and left on vacation,” the old man said, ushering him inside and taking his coat, fussing over him as always. Tim let his lips pull into an exhausted smile.

“Something like that,” he said, Alfred lifted one eyebrow at him when Tim failed to regale him of the details of his missing weeks, Tim purposefully avoided it, “Thought I'd come back and sleep in my room for once, I missed this place and having you around.”

“And I, you, Master Tim, and I should not have to remind you that these doors are open for you always.”

“Thank you.” Tim headed for the stairs.

“Will you be staying, Master Tim?”

Tim deliberated for a moment before smiling, “Yeah, I guess I will.”

He trudged up to his room just missing Damian who was coming out from the kitchen. He shot a suspicious look at Tim's back before looking to Pennyworth. For some reason, the old man had a terribly pained look on his face.

“What is Drake doing here?”

“He'll be staying with us again, Master Damian.”

“Couldn't he have stayed with his friends, he had plenty of options outside of the manor.”

“If I recall, he hasn't seen them since the whole ordeal began, and I shall remind you, he is as much a Wayne as you are, Master Timothy is always welcome here.”

Damian tutted at that, no use arguing with Pennyworth, the butler was as stubborn as they get. He headed towards the study instead.

 

Tim had almost forgotten what it was like, just being in his room. As he sat there listening to nothing, staring at everything. The state of the room had been left as it was although slightly dusty. He never was the neatest person but he tried, it helped being organized when he had cases to work on and invariably, his desk was probably the neatest part of the room.  
Sitting clearly on his desk were the various photos, his happiest moments with the people closest to him, captured and frozen in a moment in time.  
His parent and himself in one frame, a family shoot, his Dad's proud face, Tim's determination and drive. Mom's loving eyes. Tim's eyes, her heart. His breaking heart.  
The one with Bruce and him outside in the garden, Bruce glowing as Tim, his Robin, balanced a large pot of lavender blossoms in his hands, a little boy with the brightest smile he'd ever seen. He hadn't smiled like that for a long time. That little boy wasn't him. Not the same one that Bruce looked at with pride. Disappointing.  
He couldn't be Robin any more, that was Damian's role now. No matter how much he wanted it, he was too far gone.  
Tim let out a pained noise. So ironic, he'd once said that Batman needed a Robin, when had it become that Tim needed Robin? Needed to be Robin to save his life. Needed to fly. But that time was long dead and gone. Robin once, Robin never again.

He sat on the edge of his bed, staring into nothing, in the dark for a couple of hours. The shadows that haunted the corners of his room gradually became comforting. Eyes beginning to drift closed, he laid back on his bed, a cold but comforting room filled with nothing but shadows and silence.  
Oh, that's who he was now. Tim smiled. No wonder.  
His mind began to wander, a song, his mother's song fluttering sweet notes in his mind, whispering and whining gently to his heart. Slow and solemn.

The dream of music and swirling mist ended too soon as a voice called to him.

“Tim, hey, Tim!”

He opened his eyes to see Jason just inches away from his face, staring into his eyes, searching for signs of life, before letting out a relieved chuckle, more like an exasperated laugh. He let go of Tim's shoulder and sat back on the bed.

“You were way too still there for someone who's sleeping, geez, you always scare people like this?”

Tim smiled back, he didn't care any more if Jason still hated him or not, somehow, none of it mattered.

“I've scared people in other ways, Jason.”

“Hah, you're doing **something** right, then,” Jason leaned forward again, brushing a stray strand from Tim's face, “You okay there? We haven't seen your face around town for weeks now, and you're pale as a ghost.”

Tim nodded, “Just a bit tired. I never got enough hours when I was Robin, perpetually worked overtime especially with the big cases. Alfred still won't let me live it down.”

“Honestly, I don't get how you can make yourself do that, I'd rather blow my own legs off than skip a good nights rest.”

“Guess that's where were different Robins.”

“Damn, you're way too serious.”

It was odd, seeing Jason so affectionate when he was so accustomed to his rage, his need to kill especially as his replacement, that rage was mostly directed at Tim. But now, he got to see this side of Jason. It was like looking at a complete stranger. One that Tim had come to know. And he was glad, he thought, as Jason pulled up a chair to sit by Tim's bedside.

Tim turned over on his side, arms curled up at his chest, blue eyes trained on Jason reflecting a little in the soft light from behind the door that had been left slightly ajar. They stayed like that in silence, for once Jason wasn't throwing mean comments at him though he had to think hard about what he could talk to Tim about.

“You know, of all the time I spent shooting at you, I never asked what it was like, your time working with the Batman, then again I didn't really care and just assumed that you did the exact same stuff that I did when I was Robin.”

“Maybe, some parts of it, but I think, we did things differently.”

Jason let out a snort, “Yeah? Like what?”

“We did the usual patrols, yes, but I helped a lot with the investigation parts, usually Bruce relied on me to get info wherever he couldn't, stuff like sneaking into small spaces. He taught me a lot on stealth, so I got better at squeezing into small spaces and climbing on rafters.”

He'd seen Jason at work as Robin and normally never had to do all the crazy stuff that Tim had before.

“No shit, you are tiny.” Tim gave him a droopy glare, which made Jason laugh, he had to cover up to stop himself looking like a cackling fool.

“Not that tiny, Jason, 5' 8” a good size for someone my age.”

“Right, at your age I was already in the six category.”

“Stop rubbing it in Jay.”

Jason sat back just out of reach of Tim's flailing arms, “Oh and you may be fit and stuff, but something tells me you're never gonna be stacked in the strength department.”

Tim let out a frustrated grumble but he could his lips curling into a soft smile despite himself. The former dead Robin and vengeful killer, was here making him laugh, of all the things he expected. But he was glad, appreciated that someone was here and for a brief moment he wondered if Bruce or Dick was here. They probably didn't care or were too busy to look. Somehow, it didn't surprise him any more.

Fade.

“Hey, hey, where'd that smile go?” Jason said, his smile soured a bit with concern as he noticed the light go out of Tim's eyes. Tim flickered his gaze from the door up to Jason again, bringing back that smile with him. He shook his head.

“I never pegged you for someone concerned with how I'm feeling.”

“Things change, I was wrong about you and I want to at least try and fix things between us. You're still my replacement though, replacement,” Tim laughed, it came out more like a cough. He couldn't help but look back towards the door, noting the activity somewhere outside, almost to far for him to hear. Far away from him. Jason noticed him staring at the door.

“Hey, forget them it's not worth killing yourself trying to move mountains for them any more, you've done enough,” Jason said, placing a hand on Tim's shoulder. He immediately winced and moved to tug the covers higher over the boy.

“Christ, Tim, you're cold, are you alright?”

Tim didn't answer instead he looked right into Jason's eyes, so strong, all grown out of Robin, so much stronger than him and he knew Jason will be fine no matter where he ended up, “Thank you, Jason.”

“For what?”

“Being here for me, I wish we had more time,” he's running out of time.

“Hey, hey, I'll still be here, kid, always.”

Tim closed his eyes, “I'm tired, I think I'll sleep, it's been a while since I did.”

“Yeah...you sleep, I'll stay with you.”

Tim let the smile creep into his lips once more and drifted off.

_Crack_

Mom used to tell him people can't die of a broken heart, not really. It didn't stop little Tim from being scared and hiding away his little heart until he met Batman. Then he found his courage and became a brave little Robin, helping people, saving lives. Making friends and falling in love, his heart shone the brightest those days and he was happy. 

He was Robin. 

Not enough time, too soon.

He lost them all, lost Bruce, lost Robin. All he wanted was to get it all back, hoping with what was left of his heart, that things would go back to the way it was, then his heart could heal. But nothing would ever go back to the way it was. Tim, Robin, who shone like the brightest star, faded away. Tired and beaten, but it he wouldn't trade away those memories, the lessons he learned for his old life, or a new life. 

He was Robin.

He could call out for Kon and he would hear him, he always heard him, but right now he was too tired so maybe later he thought. Tim's breath finally evened out as the tension left his body. This is good, even through the haze he didn't feel so lonely with Jason's presence standing guard. This was all he needed.

His job was done. _Shatter_.

 

Jason felt his body stirring in the seat, grumbling uncomfortably to himself as he adjusted his position. He didn't think he could stay that long but watching Tim made him all relaxed and dozy. The boy looked so young in his sleep there was no trace of the vigilante in him and for a moment, Jason was left wondering how he had come so close to ending his life, he must have been truly insane then. But as Jason shifted his blurry gaze to Tim again, his eyes softened.  
The kid must have been exhausted, making up for lost hours. 

He reached forward and brushed a bit of hair away from Tim's face, “Hey, it's morning, you should get some breakfast before Alfred adds another offence to his list.”

Tim made no move to get up.

Jason's hand on his shoulder almost missed how wrong Tim felt, “Hey, Tim. Timmy. Tim. Replacement.”

He shook a little harder, but Tim didn't even flinch, “Tim?”

He was cold, no pulse, no beating in his chest.

“Oh god, no, no, no, Tim!”

Jason pushed the covers back and lifted the limp body in his arms, cradling Tim against his chest. Shaking viciously.

“Come on, come on, don't freak me out, Replacement,” he slapped his cheek lightly, trying any option he could to rouse the boy, “Wake up please, just open your eyes.”

The body hung limp, his arm fell to his side as Jason stared and stared, tears he didn't know slid down his cheeks before he buried his face into the crook of Tim's neck, sobbing. More time, he wanted more time, but he'd run out.

“ALFRED! BRUCE! GRAYSON! ANYBODY?!”

It took no longer than a minute for them to all come rushing in, including the brat who stood with Alfred in the doorway watching, as Dick and Bruce rushed in confusion and shock. Jason never, ever screamed like that. They saw him rocking Tim like a child, still sobbing quietly and when he looked up, the eyes he gave them, no seeing Tim in his arms as he stared wide at them would haunt them forever. 

…………

My name is Timothy Drake Wayne, and I died of a broken heart.


	2. It's okay...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian's wish has finally come true

Grief, blame, regret, loneliness, hatred all rolled into one in Jason's eyes, while Tim was motionless, his face so peaceful he could've been sleeping, but his chest was still, skin pale and blue without his healthy glow. All at once Bruce was frozen at the sight of his dead son, failure. Dick splutters of disbelief then wails as he pulled the stone cold corpse into his arms, regret.  
Alfred should get awards for not breaking down, but his eyes spoke volumes, loss. 

Damian didn't know what to do, he forgot about his father, partner, Jason nearly curling in on himself as his eyes couldn't tear away from the body. There will be no more glares at Damian, no more of the serious teenager to butt heads with him. He should be thankful, relieved, this was what he wanted, the whole point of trying to kill Drake for so long, so why did his chest squeeze so tightly he could hardly breathe? This feeling that threatened to pool into his eyes and spill over. Remorse.

Father barely talked to any one any more. Dick went back to Bludhaven, he was here sometimes but he made few jokes and laughed less. Any humor he'd had left turned sour and bitter, his laugh was pained. The voice inside told him he was being blamed but logically, everyone was. He waited. He waited for the gloom that had invaded the manor to dissipate and for things to return to normal.  
No matter how long he waited time seemed to only deepen that shadow and he realized that the manor was missing Drake's laugh. Odd moments when the boy let down his guard, a bright trilling voice echoed around the halls and the rooms.  
It so silent now, Damian thought, silent and dark. He realized that gloom wasn't going away, it had already crept into his heart. He wanted to hear that laugh again, mingling with Dick's, even Father's. For it to come bringing light back into the too empty hallways. Flashes of a boy in Robin's colors dashed about the manor grinning and laughing like a child made Damian's eyes go wide.

“Tim, are you ready?” Batman's voice called up from the cave, serious with a fond note to color it.

“Coming!” Drake leaped over the banisters and flipped into his landing and dashed off again, disappearing behind the grandfather clock, laughing, surrounded in bright glowing light that faded into the wall. Then the place was back to the way it was. Damian dug the heel of his hand into his eyes and blinked in the dull morning light. No laughter.

Damian sniffed. Eyes, watering without him knowing until they fell in small drops on the cold wood floor. He missed Drake so much he was seeing things. He let his body stumble until his back hit the wall and slid until he couldn't pick himself up any more. There was no Drake to shout and fight with any more. No Tim who he watched with secret admiration work with striking efficiency. No Timothy in the study, reading a book with fervent enthusiasm, quiet and powerful in presence. What was it they said? Not knowing the value of someone until they were lost. He feels a cold breeze settle over his skin as he curls up into a vulnerable ball.

Damian is an assassin, precise and deadly, not bound by petty emotions. He is an al Ghul before he is Wayne, that is a fact, and an al Ghul never shows weakness, whether it be of body or mind. So what does one like him do when he is hit with remorse? Regret? For an assassin to feel guilt? What was a born and raised warrior like Damian to do with sorrow for the first time? What does an al Ghul and a Wayne do with loss and guilt?

Poor Damian, I never really hated him. I remember all my harsh words for him, but in reality, I wouldn't have thought twice about it if he wanted to truly fix things between us. I guess it's easier to forgive when you're a ghost and you can see everything. He can't feel my fingers on his cheek and I can't wipe away his tears. I wish I could.  
I know you're sorry, I can hear you. I know you'll do better, you'll learn to be better than your father, I can see it. Please, Damian, look after everyone.  
I should have done this a long time ago when you were sleeping. I give him a goodbye kiss on the forehead, he sighs. Finally okay with being a child. Sweet dreams, Damian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next is Dick


	3. Little Brother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick can't see the future.

Dick was done. He was done being Batman. He never wanted to be Batman in the first place because he knew what it meant. It meant being someone who was suffocating and suffocated everything they touched, it meant working with the voice that constantly told him that wasn't what Batman would do, how he should be acting. It meant sacrificing what he loved. If someone had told him that Tim would be one of the ones he'd sacrifice, then he would probably have burned the cowl and held the boy close to him forever. To hell with Gotham, it was already headed there anyway, to hell with this responsibility, he cared more about his family than anything. To hell with Batman, Tim, Robin, needed him. He was left alone.

A voice whispered into his soul of blame, loathing, your fault. He was so fragile, how didn't you see that? He needed you, why didn't you listen? Your fault fault fault. You called him crazy, you let him break, where were you? You sorry excuse for a big brother. _I'm sorry,_ apologies mean nothing now, _I'm so sorry._ Say goodbye.

Dick hurled the nearest object within reach into the wall, not hearing as it shattered into many little pieces of glass and wood. His hand tearing into his scalp as he listened to the voice driving him mad insane sad.

_Hey, you still have my present right?_

A shock passed through Dick and his eyes shot toward the pile of broken glass, a carved bird lying shattered on the floor. Oh no, oh nonononono, not my little bird. _Not little Tim._ Dick fell on his knees trying to gather up the little pieces of the bird. If only I could put you back together again, I would take care of you forever, I'm sorry.  
He cradled the glass to his chest, no matter how the shards cut his skin and opened up his wounds, he crushed towards him the way he should have held Tim that day, the way he should have held him everyday, since the first time he met him. He felt the cold embrace him and his breath hitched as he sighed. This feels right, pain and cold. _Was this how you felt Tim? When I left you out there all alone?_

For a moment, the wind whistles into the room, like soft breathing and just for a moment, it's comforting, chilly but comforting. Dick looks across to the windows. They are shut.

 

I wrapped my arms around Dick, wishing he'd stop hurting himself like this. Dick always hurt himself the most when he was heartbroken and full of guilt, he's never taken it out on people the way Jason or Bruce do. He's got very few people to turn to, nothing to let out the pain, so he caves in on himself. He shivers in my arms and I realize I must be making him cold. If only I could be warm, make you okay again. I want you to be happy again the way you were when we went patrolling together. Hear you laugh the way you did when we train-surfed through the city.

Tears don't suit you Dick, please don't cry, it's not your fault. I never blamed you. Don't cry. I sigh, casting a ripple across the room. Dick sighs too and looks up towards the windows. His eyes widen in confusion then whips around, searching.

“Tim?” I leave him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Bruce's turn soon


	4. Here for you

Bruce was the one who carried Tim out that day. For the first time, there was no sign of the fighter in him, the muscle he'd developed, the seriousness that lay beneath, Robin, was gone with his last breath. His cold dead son, who lay in his arms like a beautiful doll. So beautiful.

Tim was buried beside his parents, on his mother's right side as Bruce remembered him once asking. He'd like to have believed that was the boy's last request but somewhere in his heart, he knew that wasn't true because he saw something in Tim's eyes the last time they spoke, longing, a need to be loved. Bruce ignored it because both Dick and him believed Tim was strong enough to go on by himself when he'd been crying out to them in his own way, since Bruce returned, since Bruce disappeared. For a moment, Bruce allowed himself a bit of grief, a brief mourning for the lost soldier.

With one vigilante gone things were stretched out somewhat, Dick had gone back to Bludhaven and Jason was doing everything he could to avoid them all. To his credit, he defended his own territory with passion, his and Tim's. The rest of Gotham needed looking after ad Bruce was slightly rusty from his disorientating experience. It could have helped it Dick had stayed for bit longer until he'd gotten into grips with himself again but the young man was insistent, protesting when Bruce asked, he couldn't get away fast enough. Now he'd hit the ground running. He'd have to accept the situation as it was and make do with what he had, that's what he'd taught his Robins, what Tim would have done without question.

His chest hurt like hell.

Like a muscle spasm that was threatening to choke the life out of him. Bruce shakily down a handful of pills, washed down with ice water. It didn't make him feel any better. This pain was familiar to him. Bruce forced it away as he waited for the medicine to work its magic. He had work to do and no time to think about anything else.

Two-face was on the loose again, his goons most likely, definitely had broken him out of Arkham, worse, there were signs that Penguin was ready to make a move. Activity in the criminal world increased more than he last remembered. They say Batman has gone soft. Dick never had his imposing, intimidating personality, not even as Batman. He tried though. Time to pick up the slack and show them the real Batman is back.

Where did he go wrong, what the hell was wrong with him?

Bruce scrutinized the evidence on the giant screen, the clues lay a scrambled mess in the system, Dent's activities were as erratic as ever but rumours of Joker popping up again burrowed in at the back of Bruce's mind while the thick forest in Robinson park was beginning to stir, Bruce suspected something was disturbing Ivy enough to make her act again. After a while of squinting at the bat computer, he sat back with a tired sigh, kneading at the bridge of his nose. The stress was finally catching up, his body was heavy as lead. Everything was becoming an effort now. Maybe he was getting a little too old to do this. Bruce narrowed his eyes at the screen once more, some of the clues were beginning to line up turning out to be bigger than one man could handle. One particular detail caught his eye, familiar but Bruce couldn't quite put his finger on it. It was minute but crucial. something that only Robin would know. 

He turned in his chair to speak behind him, “Tim, I need your help with-”

There was no one behind him, “...this…” 

He was looking at me but didn't see me. I looked at the screen as did he, his breath rattling as he turned. Stay calm Bruce, I got this.   
If his suspicions were the same as mine, he's right, they were rallying again together, and Joker was most likely behind it. They were doing a better job of hiding that than last time, pretending that they were moving of their own agenda, but they were all to close to one spot in one way or another. Two-face had too many men going in around the area where Ivy was based, hence causing her plants grief but not attacking otherwise, they had an agreement. Penguin had moved to a location closer to Robinson Park as well, and Harley was seen directing Joker's gang right up at the door. I leaned forward and whispered in Bruce's ear, hoping he'd hear me. He gave a grunt and dialed a few numbers, one of them was Jason, the one closest.

“Hood, I have suspicious activity around Robinson Park I believe a few of our old friends are collaborating with Joke in the lead, I want you to investigate but don't engage, I repeat, investigate only, do not engage.”

Bruce ended the message and sank back in his chair, exhausted, muttering almost inaudible words under his breath, “Thank you, Tim, you can hear me, thank you son.”

I smile and watch as he finally begins to fall asleep, “I always have your back, B.”


	5. If I had known...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry to everyone I made cry, sorrow is like a drug to me and I feel like a horrible drug dealer. Please forgive me. I love you all.

_Friday, 8th September_

__

_Hello old friend, do forgive me as it has been quite a while since I last wrote. I have had little chance or courage to reflect upon these few months since (a dark spot where the pen has pushed in for too long) Master Tim's passing. But as I come to realize, we are all human and even an old butler like me has to rest his weary bones some time._  
_Things have never been the same since that day. As I look around, I see that it has affected us all deeply, Master Bruce won't show it but the grief has aged him considerably, I fear for master Damian as he barely seems to register his surroundings, many days he finds himself choosing to talk to thin air over patrol and his father leaves him to it. It's almost safe to say that there is no Batman and Robin any longer._  
_My concern goes out to Master Damian when his father fails to register his presence within this house, I fear the boy would suffer a similar fate, however, I've come to realize that he is, like Master Bruce, haunted by Master Tim's memory, both are racked by guilt._  
_Master Dick is, well, far more open with his grief, he comes back often to sit in Master Tim's room, three hours each time to cry. I have heard him and it pains me so that I cannot offer him the comfort he needs. It was never my hand but Tim's hands that could help him, I can only give him what I can. At times, Damian comes to join him and to my relief, it seems to calm Master Dick quite a bit. Damian's change in demeanour has greatly surprised us both but very much appreciated. Master Jason has come home at times to visit, but more so argue with Master Bruce and he's almost always drunk. It always ends with him destroying anything around him. He apologizes to me after and helps clean up his mess but I fear for the young man, for his stability. I believe out of every one of us, Master Tim's death has affected him the most, Master Jason has always been rather violent and not adverse to the bottle but these days, he's seems to turn to it for a twisted kind of comfort._  
_My concern had increased to a point where I had no choice but to call and request his presence, sober. It was a great effort but I must commend Master Jason for following it. But I had come to understand why with the night he spent in the manor, alcohol free. He has nightmares._

_In a sense we both do._

_Some part of me still clings to the images, the finality of a dear beloved one, one that had come too soon. At times, whispers of accusations ring in my ears, there was more I could have done to prevent Master Tim's suffering but my pride, my belief that it would pass had come before instinct.  
I should have acted, comforted, supported him, even begged him to stay. Lord knows what he'd put himself through in the weeks of his absence. Those thoughts, haunt me to this day, I am forced to wonder, what I could have done to help him. _

_Wayne Manor is nothing short of dreadful, the wind and chill seems to live here permanently. Sometimes, things seem to be misplaced only to realize that I am beginning to slip. My mistakes are getting numerous, the chill is strong even in the warmest of months. After all these years, for the first time, I am most tired._

Alfred puts down the pen, his movements are faltering. He doesn't know but he's sick, the stress is making it worse but I can't do anything about it. I just hope everyone notices before its too late….like it was for…

I don't want them to become this, forget every damn thing I've said, I never wished for this to happen but they're falling apart from the inside. Alfred is shuffling towards the kitchen, probably to do some cleaning again. So I try to give him a little direction. He could do with some hot cocoa, his own hot cocoa, the one that always made me feel better after a bad day. He does it, he so exhausted he's not even think about it when I nudge him towards the tin. Maybe a little cream to soothe him and some cinnamon and ginger, I hear it does wonders. He finally takes a sip and the tension begins to seep out of him. He needs a good rest, maybe a holiday.

Alfred is starting to look his age.


	6. Tell them..I love them

Everything was different the moment my heart stopped, I felt...at peace. Somewhere else. And soon I realized, I was no longer lying down in my body, but looking over it, my headstone, watching over them. I never quite left.

Things work differently now. I walk through the places I used to know and I see a lot of things differently, things that a normal person can't. There are non-solid things, like patches of light that never stay the same, mixing with the solid ones, people, auras, thoughts, things moving around made of bright colours wrapping themselves around others and voices filling the expanse. It's nice like this, I hear the other place is really lovely.  
But I still go back to the manor, here, it's silent. Compared to the outside world, it's one of the biggest voids becoming much more apparent to me now and I watch them all from the beginning.

Time doesn't work the same way now, so I rewind, watch the moments after my last breath. When everyone became completely different, like their persona had been taken away and all that was left was the sadness. It was like watching the saddest part of a show, a tragedy and I couldn't understand why all their colours were so sad. A deep blue wave washing over everyone. And even long after, those waves never went away, always pouring from the windows and doors. I just wanted to fix it.  
I can't touch them, not without them shivering.  
Sometimes all that's needed is a whisper, a nudge maybe a kiss at night to sleep better, I hugged Dick sometimes because nothing else would calm him. I wonder if he recognizes the way I hug him. Probably not, that would be absurd. But none of them are coping. Everyone needs to move on.

I wish I could help Jason, his nightmares get especially bad if he doesn't drink and then, often, goes fighting while he's drunk. I watch over him, whisper to him, sometimes touch him just a little bit but nothing works. He's always saying sorry, or sitting in his safehouse staring at nothing for hours, his tears still running. I don't want to see him hurting but I don't know how to help him. I just wait.

*************************************************************************************************

That was the seventh bottle he'd downed this night, seven out of eight in one of he many packs he'd stashed around the place, cheap, disgusting liquid delirium to chase away the pain for a few hours. Jason was guaranteed the worst hangover come morning, just like any other morning.  
He hadn't drank this heavily since coming back to life and going crazy. He'd sworn off the alcohol since reconciling with himself and Bruce. He had only ever resorted to it to drown his sorrows, something he'd gotten off his rotten excuse of a dad, it was that or drugs, Roy already had trouble with them.  
That or he'd go out beating others or being beaten senseless until he couldn't feel himself ripping apart from the inside. He'd know Tim wouldn't approve of it.  
Jason flipped open the eighth and gulped it down, bitter like bile. Before him, spread out over a worn coffee table were snaps of Tim Drake, as Robin, as Alvin, as Tim sometimes smiling, sometimes not, but always hiding something beneath. The first time Jason had learned of his existence he'd looked at these pictures with nothing but hate and outrage. Replaced by a dull kid, too calm, too calculating, a wimpy excuse of a Robin.  
But now, every time Jason stared at them, his heart felt like it was being crushed again. It was easier to be blind with unjustified hate than to see those smiles for what they really were, masks. Hiding underneath was a bird beating its wings frantically to reach the stars until it could beat no more.  
Behind every careful expression, Jason could hear the weak chirping, “Please accept me, I need you, please love me, I don't want to be broken”, no one heard him and Jason heard him too late, the little bird had already stopped flying.

The bottle was flung across the room, Jason could no longer hold back the sobs. His shoulders trembled as wave after wave crashed over and through him. Some twisted part of him hoped he was loud enough for the whole world to hear, know his remorse, realize what they had lost. But the world doesn't care, Tim knew this. That's why he laid himself down, to tired to care as well.

Not enough, he needed the night, needed someone to wreak vengeance on. He wanted to make someone who deserved to suffer really hurt so that was what he did. He pulled on his helmet and guns and stole away into the city. He ran and swung from rooftop to rooftop over bright lights and dark alleys. A city of shadows and cracks in a broken mask of the wealthy and ignorant, flashy lifestyles.  
He was once a child too, growing up in the darker parts of Gotham that no one cared about, he learned to love only himself, protect only his own. He grew up with fire and pain and learned to give exactly that.  
But Tim, yes, he read it all, a boy that grew up in a well off place, but it was cold there. He was always cold and alone, learning only to please, be perfect in the hopes of earning love from those who would never give him any. A mother who could do nothing and a father who did nothing. A boy who grew up in lonely and in the dark.

Jason stopped at the edge, panting with effort, his breath coming in wisps.

Nothing changed when Tim became Bruce's partner. Just as he barely changed when he became Robin. Tim still did all he could to please, push himself over the limit for others until that was all he knew, always pushing so hard he could break. And still the world stabbed its wretched claws into his heart, take away his only happiness and what was left but a tired boy that soldiered on until he could move any more. And still Bruce wasn't there when he needed the man most. Still, Jason had chosen his rage before his sense, adding to Tim's old wounds that never really healed.

A gang tonight, twelve men, mugging and possible murder. Jason jumped into the fray without a second thought, taking the thugs by surprise. He kicked out at the nearest one, sending that one flying before sidestepping a punch and delivering one to his attacker's gut. The man reeled for a bit before rebounding and trying to make a grab for him. Jason pulled out his gun and took him down with a shot to his leg. He tried to disable another thug but his aim was off, denting the wall behind the crook, the alcohol beginning to kick in and they were all catching up now. He cursed as one managed to take him by surprise with a bat to one firearm and he dropped his handgun. He gave that one his hardest knee to the stomach. He bellowed at the angry couple to stop standing on the spot and run, and run they did, leaving him to the gang, drunk and unable to see straight, and severely outnumbered. His rational mind told him it was time to run, this was a bad idea, but his body didn't listen. Did anyone know he was an angry drunk?  
He fought, kicked, punched and lost his remaining gun and his helmet and still carried on until he'd beaten nine of them and was on the ground, exhausted and beaten himself. The last three let him have it, kicking and hitting him with sticks and whatever they could get their hands on. Jason was probably going to die like this.  
Suddenly, he could hear panic from the thugs and anyone who could run, walk or crawl away did quickly as sirens pulled up at the other end of the alley, but Jason was too numb to care.  
He closed his eyes. There was a light chirp of a robin somewhere to welcome the morning. He blocked out all the voices and noised and listened to its song, his heart calm and slowing to its voice.

Jason let his thoughts wander once more, how Tim was always ready to tear/destroy/sacrifice himself for the good of others without a second thought, never asking for anything more than love and never getting anything but betrayal, how he never asked for it again in the end. And Jason was too little too late.

“This is fine, I'm okay with it,” were probably Tim's dying thoughts.

“No it isn't Tim, it never will be,” Jason's breathed his eyes finally glazing over, “I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.”

******************************************************************

Many nights, he would have the same nightmare. Drake's back towards him, walking away. Jason always follows close behind. First a bloodied Robin when the uniform scattered to reveal his new identity, his last effort to save Bruce, then that would melt away too, leaving just Tim, who'd turn around and smile the smallest of smiles then walk away again, except this time, no matter how Jason ran and chased after him, the distance between them increased, his voice and cries muted, until all he could do was watch Tim disappear into the light. But this time, he could feel something on his skin, like warm sun. You don't feel things in a dream. 

“Jason?”  
His eyes were too heavy to open but he could see in the blinding light, a shadowy figure stood before him, calling his name. His name, that voice…

“Tim...” the boy's name left him in the smallest of whispers, all the strength left his body limp and even his voice failed him. He wanted to open his eyes, reach out and be able to touch the figure.

“Tim...”

The name was foreign on his lips. He'd never called the third Robin anything other than his mocking title. But it seemed to come easily as he called out again. A hand touched his face gently and suddenly, he found the strength to open his eyes.

There was brightness everywhere as if Jason was in a room where the walls were made of nothing but light, though he couldn't move, he could tell that this wasn't a room, there weren't any walls and he was lying down on something soft, like a bed and Tim was here, dressed as in a t-shirt and jeans, beside him. A warm hand still cradling his cheek.

“You shouldn't be here Jason, it isn't your time,” he said.

“I died once Tim, I know when I gotta go.”

Tim made face like he wanted to apologize to the whole world for Jason's crappy life. Jason lifted his hand with effort and managed to press it lightly to the boy's cheek.

“Hey, don't be like that, it's not your fault,” Jason said, his smile was cracked but genuine. Tim shook his head and persisted.

“It's not your time Jason, you have to go back, please.”

“I don't want to,” Jason sat up as more of his strength returned, “You don't know how much I've wanted to tell you, how sorry I am, how there's so much I wanted to talk to you about.” 

Jason reached forward and pulled Tim against him, hugging him hard like he was afraid that Tim might disappear again if he didn't. 

“How much I miss you.”

Tim was surprised at first, then slowly, his arms reached around him and pulled Jason closer. The stayed together like that, for what felt like minutes to eternity, that warn feeling that rose up in Jason overwhelmed him. He felt he was ready to go. But just before it had completely enveloped him Tim pulled away and looked into Jason's teal eyes. Smiling as tears slid softly down.

“You have to go back, Jason, you came back to life because Bruce needed you. It was never your time. You are special no matter what you think, and you have to pull them back together, tell them to forget, move on.”

“They need YOU!”

Tim smiled a sad smile, “No they don't, Jason, I've already carried out my part. To keep our family together until you came back.”

“You can come back too, Tim, come home with me,” Jason begged, gripping on to the boy's arms until his knuckles turned white, never letting go. But Tim just shook his head with a wry smile.

“Not everyone gets a second chance, sometimes, when people go, they can't ever come back. It's your gift Jason, yours. Please, do this for me.”

He gently kissed the white strand on Jason's head, “I've always known it wouldn't last, but I'm happy, happy I was part of something good, that I was able to protect something for once. I'm so grateful to Bruce for giving me a chance, to Dick and Alfred and even Damian for being in my life. I'm grateful that you and I could finally be friends and brothers.”

Tim let him go, slipping through Jason's hands no matter how he tried to grab on, “Thank you.”

“No, no no no, NO!” Jason cried and tried to chase after him as Tim began to drift away, “Please, come back!”

“Goodbye, Jason,” as Tim turned away, his t-shirt and jeans vanished and were replaced with his Robin uniform, cape fluttering without the wind as he walked away into the blinding light. Jason called his name one more time and he stopped and turned, a genuine smile painted his lips as he looked at Jason with his sky blue eyes one last time. Tim vanished into the light, the sound of a laughing Robin around Jason.

 

 

Normally, nearly the whole Batfamily apart from DIck is bad with special dates, but this is the one day none of them will ever forget. All of them, even Alfred and Barbara make the trip to see Tim, sometimes Alfred might have a little picnic prepared. Tim would love that, he'd never gone on picnics before as a family. Today though was a little cold for one and Dick and Bruce had work to do. They all visited and left after a couple of hours later. Only Jason was left, standing in front with a bouquet of Zinnia, Sweetpea and Bellflowers. He carefully placed them down before the headstone, _"Hear Lies Timothy Jackson Drake Wayne, most treasured son friend and brother. He died so that others may live"_  
Birds were cawing, calling noisily around the area but as Jason stilled, his eyes remaining on Tim's headstone, he could hear the Robin's song through the rabble and he smiled to himself.  
"I'll see you soon, Timmy, promise."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that should be the end, thank you for taking this walk with me, may you have sweet dreams


End file.
